The Strange Story of the Dead Cat-Sitter

In his darkened Haight-Ashbury district apartment, Dennis Oliver says he stumbled over a dead body.

Dennis Oliver came home around 1:40 a.m. on February 20, 2007.

Oliver had been out of town for a couple of weeks. The San Francisco-based artist and writer probably wishes now that he'd just stayed out of town.

The deceased was a younger man, 26-year-old Joshua Glasser. Oliver said Glasser was his "cat-sitter." Though SFPD initially treated the horrific find as a "suspicious death," it would later be reported that Glasser was found nude and handcuffed, Oliver's apartment ransacked.

An article posted online on February 23 by KGO Channel 7, a San Francisco ABC affiliate, stated that Dennis Oliver was now a person of interest. Joshua Glasser was the victim of a homicide.

The same piece stated that Dennis Oliver hired an attorney 12 hours after he first reported finding Glasser's body.

Dennis Oliver's MySpace page was spare, and a check of Google's cache shows that it had been that way for at least a month. His last login was February 20, even though at least one early report stated specifically that Oliver's computer was stolen.

The most interesting aspect of Oliver's profile was probably comments left by friends. One friend, screen name "Olegario," left a comment on February 3, 2007, that was likely a joke. Now it is probably anything but funny to Dennis or his friends: "Hey Killer, how's it going?"

A friend with the screen name "salstress" left a comment on February 17, 2007 for Dennis Oliver: "Glad you're back!"

The 17th was 3 days before Oliver told police he returned to the Haight. This discrepancy could be a misunderstanding, though -- "salstress's" own profile showed that she was based in Los Angeles, so perhaps she didn't have any concrete knowledge of when her friend actually made it back to his home.

Or maybe law enforcement had already seen Oliver's profile in addition to gathering other evidence 12 hours after Joshua Glasser was "found" in that dark apartment, and questions about login dates and friends welcoming Dennis Oliver "back" made the 43-year-old realize he needed legal representation.

In other ways, Dennis Oliver doesn't seem your usual person of interest for such a weird crime. He's written straightforward news articles for various publications, often with a focus on ecology. Oliver apparently also authored a book about camping in Northern California. On his profile page at ArtistSites.org, Oliver wrote:

I am a painter living in San Francisco's Haight Ashbury. My work is mostly in acrylic paints on canvas with some overpainting in oils. I also do some photography and digital media work...
The art seen on the profile was indeed abstract, the titles dark. For example, Dennis Oliver titled this piece "Suffocated Grandma."

If Dennis Oliver had nothing to do with the murder of Joshua Glasser, then his account of finding Glasser's body is indeed a weird and frightening tale. Try to imagine it -- stumbling into a dark room in your home and realizing there's a corpse there.

If Oliver is an appropriate person of interest, though, then it may be that the real story of how Joshua Glasser ended up dead for days in that Haight Ashbury apartment is much more commonplace, prosaic.

Glasser reportedly had a record of petty crimes. He was "troubled," according to one family member. But he was still young. He still had time to find a path, a way in the world.

Writers of fiction often must make homicide seem like the darkest of arts. That's how they sell books. A writer might construct a chilling tale that began like the one first told by Dennis Oliver.

But the real depth of the tragedy inherent in murder most of the time is that it is meaningless.

Real murder often seems to be humanity at its most artless.

Zodiac, Resurrected, Part 1.

(On March 2, 2007, the David Fincher-helmed movie Zodiac premieres nationwide. It stars Jake Gyllenhaal and Robert Downey Jr. and tells one version of the story that is about to follow. Early reviews of the movie indicate that it may be a masterful piece of film-making on Fincher's part. I know I'll be going to see it.

Tomorrow night, Saturday, February 24, 2007, America's Most Wanted will feature the case of the Zodiac Killer. The story of the Zodiac and his unsolved series of murders is one of the most fascinating you may ever encounter. The following is told using police reports and other resources available at Tom Voigt's comprehensive ZodiacKiller.com, and newspaper reports found via NewspaperArchive.com. Though I have read Robert Graysmith's Zodiac books, they were not used as sources for this blog entry or the one to follow.)

Prelude, June 4, 1963

President John F. Kennedy had 5 months to live. In the next couple of days the President would be in San Diego.

The coming presidential elections in 1964 were already being discussed by pundits in Washington. A Governor Romney from Michigan was talked about as a dark horse for the Republicans, striding the political line between Goldwater on the right and Rockefeller on the left.

In New York, Mickey Mantle slammed a homer to score the Yankees' only run in a game against the Orioles. Across the Atlantic, the BBC broadcast a show about a popular rock band out of Liverpool, titled, "Pop Go the Beatles." In the Middle Eastern country of Iraq, the besieged Communist Party pleaded to Kurdistan for refuge, to no avail. The Communists were being destroyed by the surging Baath Party.

Catholics worldwide, including President Kennedy, were mourning the passing the day before of Pope John XXIII.

A singer named Lesley Gore had a big radio hit nationwide in the U.S. with "It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want to."

At the Alpha Beta Grocery Stores in California, you could get 8 cantaloupes for a dollar, a half-gallon of ice cream for 49 cents. Women could get signature haircuts at Magic Mirror beauty salons for as little as three dollars.

For seniors at Lompoc High School, it was "Ditch Day." The unscheduled day off was a tradition, often marked by a party.

Robert Domingos, 18, and Linda Edwards, 17, wanted to be alone that day. The handsome couple drove south out of Lompoc towards Gaviota, just over 20 miles. Robert was a handsome dark-haired athlete, Linda his long-time sweetheart.

They chose a secluded spot on the beach off Highway 101. Robert and Linda made their way down from the legendary highway, passing over railroad tracks, picking their way along a path towards the sea. The couple spread a blanket on the sand at a point where the brush on the hillside ended and smooth stones leading to the water began.

At some point that day, a third person crossed the tracks and came down the hillside towards Robert and Linda. He was armed with a .22 caliber weapon, perhaps a rifle, which was loaded with Winchester Western Super X copper-coated long rifle shells. The visitor also carried rope.

Robert and Linda didn't come home that night. They never made it to graduation.

George Domingos, Robert's father, grew worried when he didn't hear from the pair. Domingos called the police and joined them as they searched for Robert and Linda.

Newspaper accounts from the time indicated that George Domingos and a patrolman found the murdered sweethearts.

Robert and Linda were not too far from where they'd laid their blanket. Robert was wearing swimtrunks. Though Linda's swimsuit had been cut open with a sharp-edged instrument, there had been no sexual assault.

Robert Domingos had been shot 11 times, Linda Edwards 9 times. Robert, a former varsity lineman for the Lompoc High Braves, had tried to fight their attacker.

The attacker stacked the bodies in a seaside shack about 30 feet from the site where the two were first accosted, Linda face-up on top of Robert. The killer apparently tried to set the shack on fire.

The killer forced Linda to tie Robert, and it was while this was being done that the couple tried to flee. The killer knew how to shoot to kill, though.

No rape, no robbery. There seemed to be no discernible motive for the assault. Ten days after the double murder there was a report that police were seeking a teen they referred to as the "laughing killer," but nothing came from that.

Linda Edwards would have turned 18 later that same week.

December 20, 1968

John Steinbeck had just passed away at 66 from a heart attack. Apollo 8 was soaring through the heavens towards a Christmas rendezvous with the Moon. The spacecraft would end up orbiting the Moon for 20 hours before making the journey home. On TV, a sci-fi series of middling popularity, Star Trek, was in the middle of its final season.

In Southern California and elsewhere people were tuning in, turning on, dropping out. A band called The Grateful Dead played a gig on December 20 at the Shrine Auditorium in L.A. The Beatles, now a worldwide phenomenon, released their 1968 Christmas record that day.

And Christmas was coming. At the import store Atwood Ltd. in Oakland, California you could buy hollow-stem champagne glasses for $1.10 a piece and Molly O'Rourke's Irish Whiskey Fruitcake for $1.98 a tin.

At 1930 Sereno Drive in Vallejo, California, a 17-year-old Vallejo High School senior named David Faraday got ready to go out with 16-year-old Betty Lou Jensen, a student at Hogan High.

David put on a light blue long-sleeved shirt and brown corduroys. He rolled black socks over his ankles and slipped on his low-cut tan chukker-style boots. David tucked a black comb in his pocket, a white handkerchief, and a small bottle of Binaca breath drops. He grabbed the keys to his '61 Rambler and headed out for the night.

When he picked up Betty Lou at 123 Ridgewood Court, she was wearing a purple dress with a white collar and cuffs, black saddle shoes and a white fur coat. It would be very cold that night.

Did he lay in wait there at the pumping station, or was he roaming the town that night? Was there a kind of unbearable itching in his psyche?

Perhaps the car simply caught his attention, perhaps a glimpse of Betty Lou, a fleeting look captured as the sun set. He needed to go hunting again.


Sometime around 8:30 that night Betty Lou and David went to see Betty Lou's best friend, Sharon. They were only at Sharon's home for about a half-hour. Maybe they talked about the concert at Hogan High. Perhaps they gossiped about Ricky, the guy Betty Lou had been friendly with earlier in December, before she hooked up with David.

David and Betty Lou left at 9, and Sharon went to a party. She didn't know where her friend and her friend's new beau were going.

Later that night David and Betty Lou were parking at the Benicia Water Pumping Station on Lake Herman Road when a strange man pulled up beside them.

The tape made a crisp ripping sound. He made one more round, tested his work, and was satisfied. He then thumbed the switch on the light. A pool of yellow bloomed on the wall in front of him. He knew that if he opened fire at that moment the bullets would punch holes in the middle of that light. So simple, so clever.

In his stomach he felt that giddy sensation again, that too-many-cups of joe feeling he always got when he was ready to hunt. It was as if the world became brighter, everything more keen. Light was sharper, cold more intense. And the quiet in his room, or in his car, it burned into him. This was the best. He was in control.


The man crossed the distance between his car and David's Rambler, gun extended, light on. He saw the looks on the young faces and it was as if something had spun up inside him. A lathe was turning within, sculpting evil.

The man moved quickly, smoothly, little wasted motion. He fired into the car to let them know that this was serious. The girl scrambled out of the passenger side, screaming, her voice a wavering theremin sound against the cold night.

Rounding the vehicle he pumped a few more bullets into the boy, and David lay still. Betty was off and running, though.

He raised the gun. The penlight attached to the barrel pooled in the middle of her back, pale yellow light on purple. Her white cuffs flashed in the dark as she ran. Not thinking, he fired, his pace implacable, aim steady.

The girl went down, 5 bullet holes in her back.

The silence now was profound. He allowed himself a moment, let out a breath. He clicked the penlight off and walked back to his car.

July 31, 1969

The letter was addressed to the editor of The San Francisco Chronicle. The printing was slanted towards the right and each line of text seemed to drop towards the end of the page. The writer began:

Dear Editor

This is the murderer of the 2 teenagers last Christmass [sic] at Lake Herman...
No one knew it on July 31st, but a strangely creative killer was firing his first "public relations" salvo across the bow. The killer sent the letter above and two others to other publications in the San Francisco area. Contained in the 3 letters were portions of a cipher created by the killer. His first of several to come.

The Zodiac was speaking...

(part II will be posted tomorrow.)

Donations

Long-time readers of my blogs know this is my least favorite thing to do, but I figured now was as good a time as any to remind folks that you can send a donation via Paypal by clicking the donation button on the right, just under the e-mail link. If you are new to my crime blogging and like what you see, please consider a token amount to show your support. Some good things have happened recently that may eventually eliminate the need for donations, but for now anything is helpful.

As always, thank you for reading.

The Great Hatto/Barrington-Coupe Caper

(This blog entry was first posted in a slightly different form at my personal weblog.)

Joyce Hatto ceased her public performing career in the 1970s when she was diagnosed with cancer.

The British pianist was never a brilliant star fixed in the firmament of concert performers. Hatto was apparently, at best, a solid performer.

Joyce Hatto cut her teeth practicing scales even while WW II raged around her, the daughter of a man who loved the music of Rachmaninov. Joyce Hatto toured a bit in Europe in the 50s. In 1956 she married a man named William Barrington Coupe. Together with a producer named Joe Meek, William Barrington-Coupe ran some sort of record company from about 1960 onwards.

After Joyce Hatto ceased public performances, so the story goes, she set about recording a remarkable body of work. Mr. Barrington-Coupe apparently had a recording studio set up in the couples' home, and with this luxury available, Ms. Hatto could record at her leisure.

About two years ago, Ms. Hatto's recordings began to receive remarkable notice. In August of 2005, Richard Dyer wrote a piece about Ms. Hatto for The Boston Globe. Dyer was apparently in error where Ms. Hatto's recording career was concerned:

She made her London debut in the early 1950s; she played extensively throughout Britain and made three tours of Poland. In the mid-1950s, she played all nine Beethoven Symphonies in Liszt's transcriptions in London. ("When I was done with them, I felt as if I were a better person than I was when I started," she says.) In 1972 she embarked on an ambitious project to play the complete works of Liszt in London; by 1976, when she became ill, she had played eight all-Liszt recital programs in Wigmore Hall ("Rather like a morgue, or a Chapel of Rest, don't you think?" she remarks of the atmosphere in London's most famous recital venue). She played in America only once, and she says, good-naturedly, that "no one came, but it was nice to see my records at Sam Goody's."

Those would have been her first LP recordings, made for Saga - music of Bax, Mozart, and Rachmaninoff, as well as Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" and an album of piano music from the movies, including "Jealous Lover" and "Intermezzo From the 'Spellbound' Concerto." Perhaps records like this, and her interest in Liszt, who was very out of fashion in the '70s, account for her neglect in the British musical press...
The emphasis was mine.

Newspaper accounts from various American papers in the late 50s and early 60s seem to indicate Ms. Hatto made recordings with a body called the Hamburg Pro Musica. The following was published by United Press International in September, 1959. The article was titled, "Gershwin is given full LP treatment":
Rhapsody In Blue—An American In Paris by Joyce Hatto with Hamburg Pro Musica (Forum F-70008). Two giant Gershwin compositions are interpreted in classical style. Miss Hatto is facile at the keyboard and is especially sensitive on An American In Paris...
What's the hoopla about Joyce Hatto? Why is the possible variance between the UPI article from 48 years ago and statements by and about Joyce Hatto made in 2005 interesting now?

Because of this: "iTunes fingers musical fraud." From the New Scientist Technology Blog:
[A] critic at the Gramophone magazine got [a] surprise when he put a Hatto recording of Lizt's 12 Transcendental Studies into his computer. The iTunes player identified the disc as being recorded by another pianist, Lászlo Simon. He dug out the Simon album and found it sounded exactly the same as the Hatto one.

iTunes had stumbled on a hoax. To identify albums it calculates a 'discid' from the duration of the tracks and then connects to the Compact Disc Database online. The Gramophone critic tried another disc - Hatto playing Rachmaninov - and again iTunes identified it as belonging to someone else. Again, the named recording - by Yefim Bronfman - sounded no different...
The blog then linked this site, where the fraud is being explained and demonstrated in precise detail.

The story was so cinematic, no wonder people loved the idea; that an aging and cancer-ridden concert pianist was making gold with the ivories in lone recording sessions over the years, as her health permitted.

But if you have the patience to pick through the sites above, it becomes obvious that Ms. Hatto's recordings are well-proven to be forgeries.

This made me wonder about the story as a whole. In his article in the Globe, Richard Dyer wrote about Hatto's "neglect in the British musical press." I found that striking, too. Another passage in the same article was eerie:
After his wife has left the room, Barrington-Coupe says, "She doesn't want to play in public because she never knows when the pain will start, or when it will stop, and she refuses to take drugs. Nothing has stopped her, and I believe the illness has added a third dimension to her playing; she gets at what is inside the music, what lies behind it."
Earlier in the piece the writer had referred to the aging cancer-ridden woman's "girlish" voice.

If Dyer conducted his interviews by phone, could it be that he never even spoke to Joyce Hatto?

Where is the proof she died in 2006?

In obituary listings for Norfolk in 2004, I found one entry for a Joyce Ethel Hatto, who was approximately 78 when she died. As rare as the last name Hatto appears to be, it still doesn't stretch credulity to think there were two women with the same name and near the same age. Besides, at least one obituary for the pianist Joyce Hatto gave her middle name as Hilda.

What if there were not two Joyce Hattos, though?

Then the hoax, which might properly be called the "Barrington-Coupe Caper," becomes much more strange and intriguing than it even was before.

For further interest you may want to click this link: "William Barrington-Coupe." The link takes you to a search of Google Groups. Discussions of Hatto and Mr. Barrington-Coupe go back to at least 2004.

I don't know that I've done any new sleuthing on this one, nor that I needed to. I learned that Barrington-Coupe may have been in the news in England a couple of decades ago for fraud, thus setting a precedent, and that the conductor listed on some Hatto recordings, Rene Kohler, may not exist. I also couldn't help but note that the only "Barrington-Coupe" to turn up in any search engine was the man mentioned in this article. That made me wonder if the name was made up, as well. The con could have been going on for many decades. Joyce Hatto might have just been the newest wrinkle.

To the supremely arrogant world of classical music, this whole thing is quite a blow. Part of the deception where Joyce Hatto was concerned was facilitated by glowing reviews of the first discs that came out a few years ago. Classical music critics listened with no real discernment, it seems. They fell in love with the peculiar romance inherent in the story, and if one of them thought, "gee, that sounds a lot like Ashkenazy," well, that was easy to dismiss -- Andrea Bocelli can sound like Pavarotti if the recording is playing in another room on a bad pair of speakers. (I'm not a fan of Bocelli at all, by the way, and I'm a tremendous fan of Pavarotti's, where pure vocalism is concerned. Bocelli is fool's gold, Pavarotti in his prime was 24k.)

A crime? Yes, I think so. But Barrington-Coupe is an old man, and Joyce Hatto is no longer around to defend herself, at all. So this crime will stand as a lesson, I think, to many who love classical music and pride themselves on being able to discern what is and is not a quality performance. Usually, anything that seems too good to be true probably is.

Unfortunately it is also a lesson to future audio forgers -- iTunes is not your friend.

UPDATE

I've seen the question asked several times online: Was there even a Joyce Hatto, at all?

Definitely, I believe there was. If the UPI article cited in the original blog entry wasn't enough, this Google Groups search should be some proof: "Joyce Hatto, Usenet mentions prior to 2005." She appears to have begun recording with legitimate labels and orchestral groups in the mid-1950s. The discs that have been sold since about 2004 by William Barrington-Coupe are the ones that appear to have been made by plagiarizing (for lack of a better word) recordings of great, established artists.

UPDATE, CORRECTION

This obituary in the Telegraph states that Richard Dyer did travel from Boston to the UK to interview Joyce Hatto. I wondered aloud in the original entry about this. So it would appear that Dyer was speaking to the real deal in 2005. Or, at least, Dyer spoke with a woman who said she was Joyce Hatto.

Sadly, if Dyer was speaking to Hatto, then to me it seems like she may have been complicit in her husband's alleged deceptions after all.

UPDATE, 2/27/2007

William Barrington-Coupe confessed. He did it, he says, to make his wife feel good about what she was doing as she neared the end of her life.

This man did time in the UK in the '60s for tax evasion, so I'm inclined to view his reasons for what he did with some skepticism, but he says he's made no money off the scam. So far, it appears that some of the producers whose work was ripped off by Barrington-Coupe are taking what seems a peculiarly British view of the situation; since Barrington-Coupe is likely "ruined, one way or another," he may not even be taken to court.

Hmmm.....

Spies, or Chameleons?

UPDATE, 02/04/08: Esther Elizabeth Reed has been arrested.

Genevieve Lancier


Genevieve Lancier was just one name this beautiful woman used. She also went by Claudia Tielt, Alexia Zerner-Merches, Vera Jarle, Fenella Lorch, and Elisabeth Leenhower.

Her body was found in Isdalen, Norway on November 29, 1970. She'd been dead for a couple of days, and was burned beyond recognition. With her was a bottle of liquor, two plastic bottles that smelled of gasoline, sleeping pills, and a silver spoon. There had been a monogram on the spoon at one time, but it was apparently filed off.

Genevieve Lancier possessed 9 fake passports, many wigs, and several pairs of glasses, none of them prescription. In suitcases she'd stored at a railway station authorities discovered that all the tags had been removed from the mysterious woman's clothing.

Witnesses who'd met the woman later indicated that she spoke German, English, Belgian, and French. No one could identify her accent.

Esther Elizabeth Reed

For a girl who'd once been a chunky high school dropout from a tiny town in Montana, she was doing pretty damned well. Esther Reed had lost weight and had some kind of plastic surgery done, and she was studying at some of the finest Universities in the country.

Reed was in trouble in Seattle, Washington in 1999 when she simply vanished. The last any family saw of Esther was during an angry confrontation with her sister, who accused Reed of stealing her checks. Esther's face was placed in missing persons databases along with entries of other missing young women, like Brooke Henson, from Travelers Rest, South Carolina.

In 2006, Esther Elizabeth Reed was attending Columbia University in New York City, looking more svelte than anyone from Montana or Washington remembered. Looking a little like Brooke Henson might have looked 7 years after she disappeared.

Which was appropriate in that context, because Esther Reed was attending Columbia as Brooke Henson.

Strange Trails

Genevieve Lancier's trail seemed to begin in Geneva, Switzerland. In March of 1970 the woman traveled from there to Oslo, Norway, where she checked into the Hotel Viking, using that name. She was at that hotel for 3 days, then she lit out again, this time for Bergen, first by airplane, then by boat. In Bergen she checked into the Hotel Bristol. This time she was Claudia Tielt.

For unknown reasons she switched hotels, then, going to the Scandia. There she used the name "C. Tielt."

On April 1st, the same woman embarked on a trip that took her through several cities and towns in Norway, a trip that appeared to end in Basel. From Basel she seemed to disappear for almost 6 months.

What was she doing? Were her destinations random? No one seems to know, to this very day. They do know that she was pretty, and seemed to have funds at her disposal. And they do know that her real identity was never certain.


*******

In 2002 a woman using the name Natalie Bowman was attending Cal State Fullerton, but she apparently had higher ambitions. She asked a professor at the California university to write her a recommendation for Harvard, and he was happy to help.

In 2003, Natalie Bowman entered Harvard. Not much is known about her time there at the moment, but two years later she was in New York and intent on going to Columbia.

She was no longer Natalie Bowman, though. Now she was Brooke Henson. On paper, she was the same Brooke Henson who had vanished so mysteriously from Travelers Rest 6 years before.

She enrolled in Columbia's school of General Studies.

Brooke Henson also began dating. She seemed to prefer military types.


*******

In October of 1970 Genevieve Lancier traveled from Stockholm to Oslo, then to Oppdal. There she stayed in a hotel with an Italian photographer named Giovanni Trimboli.

Three weeks later she was in Paris, staying at the Hotel Altona.

Almost two weeks later the mystery woman was in Bergen, again. This time she used the name Alexia Zerner-Merches. While staying at the Hotel Neptun she met an unknown man.

By November 19, 1970, she'd gone through several more aliases and hop-scotched again across Norway, covering several of the same cities and towns she'd traveled through before.

While staying in the Hotel Hordaheimen in Bergen for four days from the 19th on she seemed nervous to those who encountered her. Skittish. As if she was being watched, or followed.


*******

Brooke Henson needed extra money, apparently. She'd been known to receive mysterious money transfers from overseas, even had enough at one time to get breast enhancement and a nose job in Florida, but for some reason she applied for a housekeeping job in June, 2006.

A search engine did her in. Her prospective employer searched "Brooke Henson" and discovered that Henson was a missing person. At first the woman using Henson's name tried to play it off, and she said she was the same person. Then cops in South Carolina asked for DNA.

Brooke Henson vanished. As did Natalie Bowman, and another alias, Natalie Fisher. For all of them were actually Esther Elizabeth Reed.


*******

On the morning of November 23, 1970, Genevieve Lancier left the Hotel Hordhaimen. She went to a railway station and placed two suitcases in a locker there.

Six days later she was dead in Isdalen. When she was found it was also discovered that she had more of the silver spoons, presumably with the evidence of a rubbed-out monogram. She also possessed 500 German marks and 130 Norwegian crowns.

Two women, more than 3 decades apart. One a complete cipher, a mystery. A beautiful wraith flitting back and forth across Europe for most of 1970, her trail seemingly random. She hooked up with a photographer whose later credits would include a book about cartoonist Charles M. Schulz and a man who was as anonymous as she was.

Another woman adopted various identities, but went no further than getting a top-drawer education. Esther Reed during her time as Natalie and then Brooke committed no known financial crimes. She seemed to live a fairly simple student's life.

The most intriguing aspect of her masquerade was the men she dated. She was said to have dated cadets at West Point and maybe even someone at the Naval Academy.

Both women may have been spies. One theory about the true identity of Genevieve Lancier is that she was a Soviet spy. In the 1970 the Cold War was still going strong, and real games of spy vs. spy were being played out all over Europe.

Suspicion that Esther Reed may be involved in some form of espionage was so strong that after her money from overseas and attraction to military men were revealed, investigation into the identity thief was taken up by the Army's Criminal Investigation Division. And Esther Reed is still in the wind, even now.

What if they weren't spies, though? Neither the haunting Genevieve from 37 years ago nor today's Esther Reed? What then could explain their actions?

It was apparent to some who encountered the woman who used the Lancier, Tielt, etc. monikers that she was afraid of something, especially near the end of November. Some seem to have speculated that she could have been fleeing a former husband or lover intent on murder.

There are reports that Esther Reed had scarring of some sort. No one seems to know whether that scarring was from domestic violence or something else. Could it be that she is so afraid of one person that she'd be willing to live the rest of her life snatching new identities whereever she can find them?

Mystery draws men and women together in romance. The mysteries presented by these two women decades apart are also alluring. I wouldn't have presented them together if I didn't see similarities: women of mysterious means; attractive women, constantly changing identities; and women who died or vanished leaving no answers to the questions they raised.

I've known about the story of the strange Ms. Lancier/Tielt/Lorch, etc. for a few years, and find it frustrating that the only book written about her is apparently not available in English.

For a short time about 3 weeks back, Esther Elizabeth Reed's deception was big news. Now that we've got wall-to-wall Anna Nicole coverage, the news machine has clearly moved on.

I have my own questions. Were they spies, or simply chameleons? Many people have a trace of the chameleon in their makeups -- I've been made aware more than once that it seems as though I do. Laura James of CLEWS once noted that about me after seeing me do different TV shows across a span of months. In an e-mail she noted that I never looked the same from appearance to appearance. She was right, too. But through immersing myself in the performing arts as a kid, I found an outlet for that, and by the time I was in my 20s and 30s, I knew who I was. Even if I looked very different from one year to another, my core never changed.

But I am, as a result, completely fascinated with people who never develop that inner anchor, who seem to change wholesale, for whatever reason. Often, they become criminals.

Maybe, if they are in the right place and time, they husband those shape-shifting qualities in a different way, and they use them for a greater cause. Is that how a spy is made?

And if Genevieve Lancier was a spy, it seems pretty obvious who she might have been working for -- best odds would certainly be on the Soviets, based on the time and place.

But who would have recruited Esther Reed, originally just a troubled girl on the run? I don't know as much about terrorism as I do about everyday homegrown criminality, but I do know enough to think that it seems a little skewed to think that someone like Reed would be dating American military men, even sleeping with them, for any kind of Muslim-backed group. Who else, then?

We do still have others who'd like to get some inside line on our military's methods and operations. Even one of this country's fastest friends, Israel, had Jonathan Pollard in our midst at one time. Russia is no longer the looming presence it was in 1970, but there is still a tension there at times, and I'm sure our countries still keep plenty of secrets from one another.

Where Esther Reed was concerned, I found it curious that I could find very little about her aliases on the Web. Since she was going to major universities for at least 5 years, it seemed to me she would have had a Facebook or MySpace just to keep up the facade. If she did have any personal profiles, she was savvy enough to take them offline. Even on the Web, she has remained a ghost.

I only had one candidate online for Esther, but I dismissed the idea pretty quickly. About two or three years ago, a fascinating weblog began to set the press and blogosphere all aflutter. It was titled "She's a Flight Risk," and the blog was purportedly written by Isabella V., a mysterious twenty-something heiress who was on the run from the law and her Godfather-like family.

Isabella V. was very clever with how she handled the whole anonymity deal -- she surfed from masked IP numbers, her registration info was hidden, and she used a high security e-mail account that promotes itself as being unbreakable. "She's a Flight Risk" has also been offline since May, it appears, and Isabella V.'s last entry was written in March of 2006.

Interesting timing of the blog's apparent demise aside, the consensus about "She's a Flight Risk" has been that it was a pre-YouTube form of viral marketing, a female or male writer setting themselves up for a book deal. As well-written as some of the entries were (I had the blog on my blogroll at a now-defunct site I ran), I could believe this, and I could believe that the book deal came, as well.

So Isabella V. could have been anyone.

Then again, Esther Reed and Genevieve Lancier really were "anyone," if you think about it. And that is why mysteries like the ones they left behind lodge in your mind and irritate. They make you visit them, again and again, and wonder.

To top that off, Esther is probably still alive.

She could be in your town or mine right now, doing what she seems to do best... blending in.

Sources:

"Ivy Gal Fled Her Past," New York Post, January 12, 2007.
The Doe Network: Case File 503UFNOR.